Back to the Forest
by GreatKateZonkeyMachine
Summary: It's Albus Potter's third year at Hogwarts. When his friends and family begin to act strangely, he gets into a dangerous situation with James and will need help from friends he never knew about in order to get out of it. DISCLAIMER: First chapters are bad.
1. Lily's Sorting

Hello again, my good readers! Welcome to my second story ever, this time for Harry Potter. The summary says it all---Albus's...interesting...third year. I'm no J.K. Rowling, but I hope this is pretty good. (Sorry if I upset anybody about Lily and her House.)

Disclaimer: **I don't own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.**

Chapter One: Lily's Sorting

Lily Potter's teeth chattered uncontrollably from a combination of both nerves and cold. She huddled against her friend Cassandra and stared up at the faraway ceiling. It was the perfect image of the miserable weather outside. Why couldn't she have crossed that lake on a nice night? With stars twinkling overhead and the calm surface of dark water reflecting the luminous crescent moon? Instead she got _this_ night. Sleet!

"Danworthy, Michael!" called Neville from the top of the hall. A swarthy boy with curly black hair stepped timidly up to him and sat on the old stool. Neville placed the Sorting Hat on the boy's head. The hat didn't move. Then, suddenly, the rip on its brim opened wide and it bellowed:

"_SLYTHERIN!_"

Once again, all the first years jumped.

Michael Danworthy took his proper place at the Slytherin table, a small smile playing on his lips. Lily saw her older brother, James, watching him with a contemptuous look.

"Nearly to you," Lily muttered in Cassandra's ear. She nodded shakily.

Sure enough, the next name called out was "Dillard, Cassandra," and she walked, stumbling a bit over her long robes, to the stool. The hat pondered for a moment, before calling out:

"_GRYFFINDOR!_"

Cassandra beamed at Lily, walking over to sit by Rose, Lily's cousin. Lily gave her a thumbs-up.

Neville went on down the long list of children's names. Finally, he came to "Oydle, Joshua," and Lily smoothed back her sopping wet hair; Soon, the word "Potter" would ring out around the hall, and it would be her turn. Sooner than she thought, in fact.

"Potter, Lily!" Neville looked up from his parchment. Lily took one last look at the ceiling---as if to say, "Well...wish me luck..."---and stepped to. Smiling kindly at Lily as she ambled onto the wooden stool, Neville put the hat gently on her head. It slipped down to the bridge of her nose, so that all she saw was blackness.

Unsurprisingly, a brief yet detectable ripple of murmuring soared through the students at the sound of her name. Lily grimaced. She could picture her cousin Hugo blathering away about her all too easily. She hoped he wouldn't make her out to be a prat before she was even sorted. She didn't want people to hate her without a good reason.

Without warning, her fretting was cut off by a voice that seemed to come from inside her own head.

"_Another Potter, eh? Yes...you'll do nicely, my dear._"

She jumped. It must be the hat speaking to her.

"_Intelligent...loyal...fair...my, you _are_ a well-rounded girl. Oh, where to put you...where to put you?_"

She began to feel very nervous. It hadn't occurred to her until just now that she might be put into a house other than Gryffindor. What if she was in Slytherin?

"_Such a decision...clever...brave...such a choice!_"

No, she had a feeling the Sorting Hat wouldn't put her in Slytherin. In fact, she didn't think it would put her in Ravenclaw, either...

"_I suppose...yes, that would be best...all right, then!_"

Suddenly the little voice grew much louder; it reverberated chaotically inside the hat, and was also spoken aloud outside of it:

"_HUFFLEPUFF!_"

"_What?_" James Potter's voice was distinguishable---indeed, unmistakeable. The hat was lifted; Lily could see again. Several people did look surprised. A few Gryffindor heads were turned, staring at James, who looked instantly sheepish and regretful.

Lily's face burned as she walked away from her friends and family towards a table of unfamiliar faces, who nonetheless clapped warmly and welcomingly. The short walk seemed to take a very long time...and her footsteps seemed very loud. She was not only embarrassed and disappointed, she was confused. Not because the Sorting Hat had put her in Hufflepuff, but because she had _known _it would. In the few seconds before the hat had screamed out her new house, she had experienced a very strange feeling of conviction---not confidence, exactly, just blank certainty---that she _would_ be placed in Hufflepuff, which made no sense whatsoever because she hadn't expected it...and yet she _had_, but...

Lily blinked vigorously and gave herself a little mental shake as she sat down with her new classmates. All new students felt this way, her mother had told her...though it didn't seem this was quite what she had meant. Lily wasn't sure if her feelings were different then that of any other newly Sorted first year, or if _that _was another new student feeling as well.

"Congratulations, friend," said someone, and a hand clapped her on the back. She looked up. Sitting beside her was a prefect (she could tell by the badge gleaming on his chest) of stocky build, curly ginger hair a bit longer than that Slytherin first year Danworthy's, and warm crinkly black eyes that reminded Lily of Hagrid. He looked about sixteen. "Being in Hufflepuff. It must be difficult, not being with anyone you know and all."

Lily managed a nod and a faint squeak.

The friendly boy smiled sympathetically. "Welcome to the House of the Badger. My name's Stanley."

He waited for a reply. Even though this boy obviously knew what her name was, she said in a small voice, "I'm Lily."

Stanley smiled. "You're hungry, I imagine. Don't worry; Soon enough Professor McGonagall---"

He was interrupted by a scrawny kid with a rather small nose that bore a rather large pimple. "Hey, Stan! Got any more of those cakes left?"

Stanley grimaced. "No," he said frustratedly, "but thanks for bringing them up when I was trying not to."

The smaller boy made a coy face and went back to his friend (a girl with blonde pigtails and a pinkish round face). Lily could see that his face was splattered in a rather large amount of rather small freckles. He had rather large ears, one of which had a rather small earring dangling from it. It was clear from the earring and the way he spoke that this boy thought himself very cool. He looked to be about Albus's age---Albus was another brother of hers.

"Sorry about him," Stanley said, going back to his cheerful demeanor. "That's Earl Smith _the third_." He spoke these last words extremely pompously, mocking this Smith kid. "He's always unpleasant like that. You should hear him going on about his 'ancestors'. Well, no, you shouldn't, actually. I dearly hope you are never forced to suffer that misfortune. He's especially cranky this year, though, because he wasn't made prefect. You know that prefects are titled as such in fifth year, right?"

"I didn't."

"Well, now you do. What I was saying,"---here he leaned back to peer at the table at the top of the hall at which all the adults were sitting---"Professor McGonagall usually says the really meaningful stuff just before the speech, and then the requisite stuff after pudding's done. It shouldn't be long now."

It took perhaps six minutes for Professor McGonagall to finish talking with the man beside her---a short, plump fellow with a mustache and a bald head. Both he and the headmistress looked very old. During these minutes Stanley tried valiantly to make conversation, but Lily was halfhearted about it. She knew she should feel bad about being so rude and antisocial, but her mind was at the Gryffindor table, or pondering the curious feelings she had experienced beneath the Sorting Hat. She now felt dazed and woozy. This, she deduced, was an aftermath of the draining mental experience---it seemed to have occurred in the space of an instant, but she felt very tired indeed.

Finally, the mottled and thin-mouthed woman clad in green pushed her golden throne-like chair backwards and stood up. She was quite tall. The Hall fell silent considerably rapidly.

Professor McGonagall smiled. "Welcome, all, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Newcomers, I hope you have made friends among your new peers. Old-comers, welcome back to another year of learning and _good form_."

James snickered. McGonagall ignored him. Evidently she was attempting to make a first impression of pleasantry.

"I am confident that you shall all enjoy the excellent feast that awaits you after my speech." She wrung her long, thin wand in her hands conversationally. "Today, we, as wizards young and old..."

Lily found herself gazing through the window at the far end of the wall. She could see torches, cliffs, stars, and the calm surface of the enormous lake beyond. It was a tranquil scene, and Lily soon wandered mentally far from where she was now.

Then Professor McGonagall's voice changed; it was clear she was reaching the end of her speech. "Now," she said, clasping her hands together (Lily looked at her again), "I'm sure you're all hungry and tired of hearing me ramble on. So," She took a seat and said theatrically, "let the feast...begin!"

At first Lily was puzzled---but then, to her wonder, endless varieties of succulent food simply materialized on the clean golden dishes before their very eyes. The older students, who were not surprised by this, were the first ones to begin loading their plates. Not Lily, though; she was taking it all in.

There was more food then she had ever eaten in her life: steak, pork chops, lamb chops, bread, mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, boiled potatoes, roasted potatoes, ham steaks, roast turkey, green beans, broccoli casserole, fried chicken, grilled chicken, grilled salmon, roast beef, roast chicken, sausages, bacon, peas, carrots, and gravy.

"Want some mashed potatoes?"

Lily looked up. Stanley had a serving spoon in hand that carried a sizable dollop of mashed potatoes.

"Erm, yes, thanks," Lily said awkwardly. Stanley smiled and put the potatoes onto her plate.

"Gravy?"

"No, I don't like it much."

Stanley shrugged and began to dig in to his flank steak. He was eating slowly and glancing sidelong at Lily, who still had not moved.

Lily darkened. This kid was a nuisance. Who told him to tail her like a too-eager dog, anyway?

She blinked. What was wrong with her? He was just being kind. He obviously wanted to talk with her, and to make sure she got something to eat. She speared a ham steak and moved it to her plate.

Once Lily's plate was absolutely crammed, she gave in to her watering mouth and took a bite of broccoli casserole. It was delicious.

Stanley swallowed. "I expect you'll want to know the run of the mill." When Lily nodded, he started to explain the way things went at Hogwarts between mouthfuls. When he got to the Forbidden Forest, she frowned thoughtfully.

"But if the students can't go into the forest, why do they keep it on the groun---" She was interrupted when Earl Smith's pigtailed friend let out a frightened squeal and knocked the gravy pot flying. It soared dramatically and landed upside down on the stone floor behind Stanley, soaking the front of Lily's brand new school robe and flecking Stanley's hair with brown spots.

The reason for Pink-Face's outburst was immediately apparent; an opaque, babyish face with several chins had just risen through her plate. Clucking exasperatedly, the head pulled itself out of the table, revealing a full, robed, and obese body. One of his feet swiped Lily's nose. She flinched---not because she thought he would hit her, but because the sensation of having a ghost swoop through your face is not a pleasant one; Lily felt as if she had dunked her head in a bucket of ice water.

While the ghost moaned its apologies to Pink-Face, Stanley was saying grumpily, "Oh, blast it! I could have worn my hat today! I _could_ have! Now my hair looks like it's got dragon pox, or spattergroit! Eurgh!" Stanley and Lily mopped themselves up, and other ghosts began appearing all around the Great Hall.

Two of them passed over their table---a swaggering man tossing his own head up and down, and a sullen maiden with a veiled face. The Fat Friar stayed constantly, helping himself to a vacant seat between two seventh years, who didn't look very pleased with his choice of who to squeeze in between. An eerie rushing noise, like that of a lonely wind on a lonely night, was audible over all the chatter of the banquet as the ghosts swirled about.

Lily looked at the fallen gravy pot...and saw that it wasn't there. "Look!" she cried, pointing to the now spotless floor.

Stanley grinned at her. "Yeah, that'll be the House-Elves at work. You can thank them for this meal." He gestured to the floor. "They're in the kitchens, just below us right now."

Lily was fascinated. "My aunt---"

Another ghost, this time a gaunt one with bloodstained robes, popped up in the middle of the table. This time, everyone ducked when Pink-Face sent her goblet of pumpkin juice sky-high.

* * *

Finally, the remains of the feast, and the desserts, all disappeared, leaving the golden dishes spotless once more. Professor McGonagall stood up again and went on to explain the rules and regulations---it was nothing Lily hadn't heard from Stanley already.

Lily was very tired. Being stuffed like a teddy bear didn't help. She was very content to just lie down in a comfortable bed, no matter what common room it was in. It was a stupid, blissful feeling. And yet...that mental breakdown (for this was all Lily could think of to describe it)...Was it her magical powers coming out in a way she couldn't control them? That had happened before; she had been angry at James, and suddenly an upturned vat of frog spawn had popped into existence directly above his head...Or was it the Sorting Hat? Was it affecting her mentally? She squirmed uncomfortably. Was she going mad?

These and other mystifying questions she pondered endlessly in her new bed in her new common room, once she had been lead down a staircase, through a portrait, and into the first year girls' dormitory. She wondered what her brothers were thinking right now---she had tried to speak with them alone as everybody filed out, but they and all of her other friends and family were joining the throng upstairs, while Lily was going down. She wondered what her parents would think; Everyone on both sides of her family had always been in Gryffindor. She wondered what the future laid out in store for her. And she might get an answer in a different way than she had ever imagined.


	2. A Day in the Afterlife

Lily Potter has just been sorted. Now we are going to switch perspectives---the rest of the story will be from Albus's point of view. Read on...

Disclaimer: **Nothing has changed since last chapter.**

Chapter Two: A Day In the Afterlife

"Come on, Al! Get _up!_"

Albus blinked groggily. "Wha?"

"It's the first day back! Come on, let's get down to breakfast!"

Cedric was shaking him vigorously. He opened his eyes fully, and saw a blurry face, raven-colored hair already washed and combed, looking down at him impatiently. When Cedric saw that he was awake, he made a humphing noise accompanied by the curtest of approving nods and swept over to his own bedside table.

Albus sat up. His black hair was a horrific mess, so that he probably now resembled his father more than himself.

"Get a move on," Cedric urged from across their small and circular dormitory. He was pinning his robes with a crest depicting a golden lion on a red background, with barely legible text reading: "GRIFFINDOR". "Don't you want to see your little sister?"

The memory of the previous night came rushing back to him---the Sorting Hat roaring that she was in Hufflepuff; her eyes popping open in dismay; his brother's outburst; James furiously relaying that he thought their must be some sort of mistake ("Don't these ninnies know who her _parents_ are?") in a conspiratorial whisper. He groaned and stood up very quickly. With the result of slumping back down from lightheadedness.

Cedric let out a matching groan and hauled him upright. "Well," he said in exasperation, "Aren't you going to get dressed?"

When Albus's hair was neatly parted and his robes were on, he and James set off for the Great Hall. The castle was comfortably familiar, in all its mystic glory. The fire crackled merrily at them as they passed into the seventh-floor corridor.

"Morning, sweets!" called the Fat Lady from her oil portrait at Albus and Cedric, who were descending a narrow stairway. They waved back at her, and kept walking. Then they stopped.

As it always had been, the decision of which route to take through the school was a challenging one, especially for a perfectionist like Cedric.

"Should we go straight, or take the other way---the one to the left?" he wondered aloud, peering down each path in turn.

"Let's take the long way," said Albus. "I'm not in the mood to deal with those ornery staircases."

So they turned left and hurried down the bright corridor. Cedric was panting a tiny bit when they finally reached the Entrance Hall seven long floors below.

As they passed the small double doors that lead into a small antechamber, Albus's belly squirmed. Lily had waited in there with all the other first years, just before she had been made a Hufflepuff.

Albus scolded himself. _You should be happy for her_, he thought sternly. _It doesn't matter what House she's in!_

They found Lily sitting at the Hufflepuff table, finishing off her breakfast. Her face brightened slightly when she saw Albus and Cedric.

"High-low," she said. "I mean, hi. I mean hello."

Albus snorted. "Sounds like somebody's not quite awake yet this morning."

Lily flushed.

A freckled boy sitting near her also snorted. "She's been like that for _ever_. I think there must be something wrong with her brain---it's disgraceful. She sounds like a puffskein."

A girl with blonde pigtails laughed. "Good one, Earl!" The freckled boy looked pleased with himself.

Lily blushed even harder. Then she scooped the remains of her fried egg into her mouth and left the Hall, tripping a bit as she went.

"Must've had a rough night," Cedric observed. "Best leave her to her own devices, she obviously doesn't want to talk to anyone."

Albus shrugged---a little sadly---and sat down. Nobody they knew was at the Gryffindor table; they must have all finished eating already. Albus glanced at the ceiling to see what the weather was like, spooning grits into his mouth without looking at them. The sky was a depressing, murky grey, and silent raindrops were falling and vanishing several feet above the tables. The storm must not have quite passed yet. At least there wasn't any sleet anymore.

Albus continued eating, cheered up a little actually. He liked the feeling of being cooped up inside while it was miserable outside meanwhile. It came with a pleasant, cozy sense to him. Cedric did not share this view.

"Ugh, _look_ at the conditions! I _hate_ rain!Now we can't even go outside on our first day back. Oh, well, maybe we'll have Herbology." He frowned. "Come to think of it, we never looked at the timetable on the notice board."

"You forget," said Albus, after swallowing his sausage, "We've got new schedules now---third year classes, remember?"

"Oh, yeah! Which ones did you take again?"

"Divination, Ancient Runes, and, erm, Care of Magical Creatures. You?"

"Same, except I've got Arithmancy instead of Divi---Oh, look, I guess Professor Longbottom hands out the course schedules for third years."

Neville was sidling along the Gryffindor tables, giving pieces of parchment to the older students. Like Professor McGonagall before him, he was both head of Griffindor and deputy headmaster.

He came to the two of them and handed Cedric a card. "Cedric Chang, right? And here you are, Alb---Mr. Potter."

Albus's card showed that he had Double Potions, Double Care of Magical Creatures, Transfiguration, and History of Magic. He bade Cedric so long, and went back upstairs to fetch his bag.

* * *

Sir Nicholas De Mimsy-Porpington was not used to students going out of their way to speak to him. He usually roamed the corridors, occasionally saying cheers to people, but all together alone. Nobody seemed to want to go near a ghost very often, and the students had an absurd desire to shiver whenever he made to touch them.

So he was solitary most of the time. He spoke to the other ghosts more often than the students and faculty, but not exactly frequently. He had long since given up hope of being accepted into the headless hunt---he had even attempted, years ago, to pull his head off, but as a ghost his form could not be changed.

It was a bit of a surprise, therefore, when Albus Severus Potter called to him from over the heads of a flock of first year students all milling into the Charms classroom. When Nick looked around, his head wobbled dangerously; he placed it firmly back down and adjusted the ruff on his neck.

Albus waved, and the red leather bag slung over his arm swung back and forth as he did so. He and Nick strolled around a corner into a deserted corridor, and then Albus struck up conversation.

"Hi, Sir Nicholas! Had a good summer, then? Did you try again with Veronica?"

Last year, Nick had taken a liking to a pretty witch's ghost who had attended his five hundred and twenty-fifth deathday party.

"Oh, no," said Nick quickly, blushing cloudy, "I'm too cowardly to talk to her."

Albus grinned. "Oh well. This year, maybe."

Nearly Headless Nick grimaced skeptically.

"I attended your sister's Sorting Ceremony last night. Quite extraordinary...yes, quite...Your elder brother didn't seem too pleased, did he? What's his name---Timothy?"

"James."

"Ah, yes, thought so! Named after his grandfather," he said matter-of-factly. "I was never terribly fond of either of them, to be frank. No offense meant, no offense..."

"Is something wrong?"

"Oh no, I'm just a bit...lonely."

"Lily's feeling down too, I think. She seemed very distracted when I talked to her, and she never smiled once."

"My advice; it can be tough being brought into a situation that scares you with no friends to back you up, especially if you're unfamiliar with everything around you. Your sister will want to be alone, but believe you me, she'll feel much better if she's got you to comfort her."

Nick looked out the window, with an air of uncomfortable thoughtfulness. "When I...died, I had the choice of whether or not to...to go on, as it were."

Albus stared at him. He did not know why Nearly Headless Nick was telling him this. "They executed me because of my magic---I had tried to fix a lady's teeth in the park, and the charm sort of, ah, went astray. She grew, oh, at least one tusk, yes. It's been so long, I...I forget."

Nick was still looking exceedingly awkward as he related his tale. "The executioner didn't sharpen his axe properly. It took forty-five blows just to get me like this,"---here he swung his head sideways; it made a positively nauseating squelching noise as it swung as if on a hinge---"_forty-five!_ Can you imagine the...ah, but I digress...Yes, the, the, ah, the dying---that is to say, my death---was painless---it's just the transition _to_ death that---yes---in a sort of limbo---a void---anyway. Very long story made short, I was lonely. Lonely and scared. I was afraid of what lay ahead, unwilling to let go of what I had lost. It is unnatural for a dead being to go back into the living world, it was never meant to be. Only wizards...well---"

Nick was obviously very uncomfortable with the subject of death, and Albus was just about to change the subject, but the ghost continued on. "The, ah, the point is," he said slowly, "I came back as a ghost because I didn't want to leave those I knew and loved. And then when _they_ died I was so sure they would come back for be, and we'd be together...They didn't, of course. This is why ghosts are so depressed and depressing. Happy people don't generally become like us, not if they're...if they're content..." He trailed off again.

"It can do funny things to people, being so alone and secluded. Don't let your sister bottle her self up...don't let her...the guilt...trust your...So, what class do you have next? A new one?"

Albus nodded, not pursuing the subject that Nick so obviously wanted to avoid. "Care of Magical Creatures. Double, with the Ravenclaws."

Nearly Headless Nick nodded curtly. He made an attempt at a smile that made him look like he was constipated. Then he drifted through the stone wall, leaving Albus alone.

* * *

Rubeus Hagrid had always had a wild, and kind of intimidating, sort of appearance to Albus. His battered old coat, so unlike the neat robes everybody else wore, was scratchy and enormous; he had a string of dead rodents draped over his shoulders more often than not; his white-streaked dark hair never failed to astonish Albus with how atrociously groomed it was; and he was _big_. Albus thought he was probably twice as tall as a normal man, and much, much wider than one.

"So, kids," he said in a deep voice that was just as scratchy as his hair, "Welcome ter yer first Care o' Magical Creatures Class!"

He beamed at them all behind his ears. Albus was comforted by the warmth in his crinkled black eyes.

They had an enjoyable lesson. They studied little things called kneazles. These were cat-like creatures with shrewd, knowing faces and irritable temperaments. It was nearly impossible to trick them, and when they discovered your attempt they gave you a look that made you want to hide your face from those disdainful, penetrating eyes. They could make a person feel dangerously conspicuous, even if they had nothing to hide. One of them viciously attacked Lawrence Fletcher, a Ravenclaw who had unwisely prodded it with a twig in frustration---but otherwise they were not aggressive.

Albus's final class of the day was History of Magic. As usual, he tried valiantly to be attention to the boring drone of a lesson, but zoned out relatively quickly. Gazing absently at Professor Binns's shimmering figure as he lectured, Albus thought of Nearly Headless Nick's words on death and ghosts and loneliness. He remembered the advice about Lily, and also that he had not seen her since breakfast. He felt uneasy; something was going on with her, something that seemed to be more than the Sorting.

_Another anguish-filled day in the life of me_, he thought dryly. He had spent a day in someone else's life, watching his own as if from a difference. He recalled the philosophical wonder he had felt at Nick's words. He had spent the day in a ghost's life...He had spent a day in the afterlife.


	3. Poison Apple

Do you like the story so far? PLEASE review, I've only got one. (Oh, and you can expect a LOT more of Rose, Hugo, Scorpius, and others...;})

Disclaimer: **It's getting tiresome to keep doing this---I think we all know where to look.**

Chapter Three: Poison Apple

Albus's shoes made soft squeaking noises as he trotted down the Hall. He hadn't been able to sleep, so he had gotten up and gone down to breakfast as early as possible. Now he saw that he wasn't the only one; Scorpius Malfoy was there too, as was Lily. They were each sitting alone, according to House.

Albus looked at Scorpius. He had a sour expression on his face as he drummed the table impatiently with his long fingers. Albus wasn't sure why, until he noticed that the gleaming dishes were empty. It had never occurred to him how the breakfast foods got there: he had always been a late riser. He supposed they must just appear like at the feasts.

He sat down at the Hufflepuff table with Lily. There was no reason for the tables to be divided like that, he realized, especially with only three people in the Hall. He glared at Malfoy, daring him to comment. But, to his amazement, Scorpius made as if to stand up and join them. He instantly seemed to think better of it. With a disdainful sneer, he turned away.

Albus looked at Lily, who hadn't even said good morning. "You okay?" he asked kindly.

She nodded, averting her eyes. "Yeah. Yeah."

"You're really distracted."

"Am I?"

He put his arm around his little sister. "You know," he said in a low voice, "I couldn't care less what House you're in."

She nodded again.

"If you're happy, I'm happy."

Another nod.

"You don't seem happy at all." He was silent for a moment, and then went on. "I'll tell you something. When I first came here, I was terrified I would be in Slytherin. But Dad told me what happened when he was Sorted. He said that the Hat actually wanted to put _him_ in Slytherin."

"Dad?" said Lily incredulously.

"Uh-huh. I was still worried, but now I realize it wouldn't have been so bad. It doesn't really matter what House you're in. Who says the students have to be divided that way? Who says we can't have a bit of inter-House bonding? _You've _shown me that, Lily. So in a way, I'm glad you're in Hufflepuff. You can be the unique one, the one who breaks the tradition."

Lily only wiped her eyes.

"You know, if there's anything you want to talk about...I'm here for you."

"I know." Then, after a very long pause, "Thanks. There is...something..."

With a metallic creak, the double doors opened and in stepped none other than the headmistress, Minerva McGonagall.

"My, you are early birds this morning," she said, smiling slightly at them. Scorpius muttered something.

Albus turned back to Lily---and yelled with shock. In the few seconds he had been looking away, the golden plates and platters had been filled with food. He now found himself staring hungrily at an array of potatoes, bacon, sausages, eggs cooked in every way imaginable, biscuits, French toast, and fruit.

Albus loaded his plate with all of the above (except for a sickly-looking yellow goop labeled "Eggs Rubeus"). By contrast, Lily took nothing but an apple and a strip of bacon; not a combination Albus would have chosen.

Albus opened his mouth to console her in some way. But just then, James came bursting in.

He strode quickly over to them. "I want to talk to...Why are you sitting at the Hufflepuff table?" He frowned. "Never mind. Listen, let's go outside and---"

"Go outside? In this weather? You're mad!"

"No, outside in the _Entrance Hall_."

"Oh. Erm, I'm kind of..."

"Kind of what?"

Albus looked pointedly at Lily. James didn't take the hint.

"Stop rolling your eyes and come on!" He seized Albus's arm and dragged him out into the antechamber between the Great Hall and the Entrance Hall. Albus looked back at Lily, who was twirling her fork absently. Her plate was laden only with a sad little apple with one bite taken out of it.

"Listen," James said without preamble, "You know your friend, Cedric Chong?"

"Chang."

"Whatever. He---"

A huge gaggle of Hufflepuffs went spilling through into the Great Hall for breakfast. The school seemed to be waking up: the rest of the students and staff were milling over the Entrance Hall. A tall, stocky Hufflepuff prefect with curly hair and a kind face (his eyes were reminiscent of Hagrid's) held the door open for a bunch of Gryffindor fourth-year girls. They giggled their thanks and sauntered inside.

"What were you saying, James?"

"Not here, not now," he said hurriedly, glancing around in a suspiciously conspiratorial manner. "Too many witnesses."

And he left. Without another word.

Albus didn't see James again until just before lunch. He was walking out of his Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom ("Remember---essays due Thursday!" called Professor Strout) when James came sprinting down the corridor and pulled him down a staircase. They were near the entrance to the Astronomy Tower.

"About what I was trying to say earlier," he said preemptively, "Have you ever heard the stories about the forest?"

Albus gaped at him. "The _Forbidden_ forest? Oh, no, no, no, no, no. I know where you're going with this---we _are not_ sneaking into the forest."

"Oh, come on! Who says that's what I'm going to say?"

If Albus had been able to lift a single eyebrow, he would have. However, since he had never been able to make his eyebrows do that, he raised them both.

"Don't give me that look. Oh, all right! I do want to visit it---but let me explain myself!" he added hastily as Albus opened his mouth furiously.

"I've heard of scary things down in those woods but also really _cool_ things! Centaurs, Al! And hippogriffs!"

"You listen to me, we'll get into monumental trouble if---"

"Nymphs, too!"

Albus grabbed his brother's wrist. James was practically bursting with excitement and passion.

"Who's been telling you these stories, James?"

"Alana Finnigan."

Albus snorted. "That girl who said she fought Damian Flint single-handedly? Oh, suuure."

"Well, she was in the Hospital Wing with a luminescent purple tongue and a swollen black eye! I mean, literally, black; the white, iris, and pupil were all the color of your hair."

Albus subconsciously touched his bangs. "Iris? Nice term---didn't know you were familiar with that one. Anyway, the Forbidden forest is _dangerous!_ D'you remember those stories Dad used to tell us? About the magical animals Hagrid used to breed? The Blast-Ended Skrewts? They sent the last of them to live in the forest: Imagine us meeting it if we went!"

"We won't meet a Blast-Ended Skrewt," said James confidently.

"We're not going!"

"Yet."

James clearly wasn't going to be convinced by talk of peril, so Albus tried a different angle. It was a fairly weak one, considering this was, after all, James.

"We have to set an example for our little sister."

James laughed (a little coldly, it seemed to Albus). "She's not stupid, she's old enough to make her own decisions on stuff like that."

"And that's another thing!" stormed Albus. "You're so immersed in your...your..._antics_, you don't even have time for your sister! She's upset! She cries all the time, I see her red puffy eyes! _And you're so busy with your own stupid rule-breaking agenda you don't even notice something's wrong with her, like a GOOD brother should!_"

James stared at him in shock, sputtering slightly.

"Even if you did notice," Albus plowed on, "you wouldn't care! You're so distant now! It's like you've disowned her because she's in a different stupid House than you are!"

As if on cue, Lily Potter herself rounded a corner and passed them. She was chatting with the same Hufflepuff Albus had seen with Hagrid's warm and crinkled black eyes. He was making her laugh.

James scowled. "Besides," he said, finding his voice again, "Lily's apparently got other older boys to set her an example..."

"Which is more than either of us could, evidently," muttered Albus.

"If we come back from the forest---"

"_If _we come back? Oh, NOW you sound encouraging!"

"---and word gets out to the other kids---whether by our doing or someone else's---we could be treated like heroes. Think of the glory, Albus, of the fame. The infamy! The bragging rights! The satisfaction! The girls!"

James was totally daydreaming now. How he could think of all the students knowing about such a voyage and not telling the teachers was beyond Albus. He placed a hand on each of his brother's shoulders and shook them slightly. "James," he said darkly, "Think of the _consequences_."

Albus walked to lunch alone that afternoon. He paused right outside the Great Hall. This was the same foyer that James had first attempted his proposition in. He looked into the intense, staring face of a statue of one of the Hogwarts founders: Godric Gryffindor, holding a thick tome and with a lion at his feet.

Albus knew that Gryffindor's namesake meant bravery and courage from all those admitted into his House. But in this case he wasn't sure which was the braver option. He knew that the alleged right thing to do would be to refuse, not necessarily to report James. Or was it? His heart told him...well, he actually didn't know _what _his heart was telling him now.

He didn't eat much for lunch. Though he piled his plate as usual, mostly all he did was pick at it with his fork. He stared into the skin of a shiny red apple on his golden plate before he finally decided to just get up and leave. He ignored Cedric's bemused calls and went to the Gryffindor common room for the remainder of the lunch period.

"Something ailing you, dearie?" said the Fat Lady kindly as he halted before her portrait.

"Yeah, 'bit." Then he said, "Eden," and the portrait swung forward before she could ask.

[A/N: Professor _Strout_ is different from Professor _Sprout_. Miriam Strout was the Healer in Gilderoy Lockhart's ward at St. Mungo's.]


	4. My Pet Peeves

OMG, I KNOW! A new chapter! Yes, I will keep updating, though they will most likely be few and far in between. I would appreciate it if you could review after reading. I desperately need feedback!

Disclaimer: **Oh, forget it.**

Chapter Four: My Pet Peeves

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Albus feverishly packed up his spilled bag. The seventh floor corridor was deserted now. A booming bell sounded somewhere far off to his right. Swearing under his breath, he sped up.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

The leftover rainwater from previous days steadily dripped off a windowsill onto the floor. The rain had stopped yesterday, but it was still murky.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

He stuffed the last quill inside and hurled the leather bag over his shoulder, setting off for Charms.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

He was so distracted, he didn't even notice the vase perched precariously on top of a suit of armor; a giggle came from behind the visor, unbeknownst to Albus.

_CLANG. Drip. CLASH._

With a bloodcurdling scream that echoed Albus's own, the suit of armor leaped at him. The large floral vase smashed at their feet. Albus backed up against the wall. The suit of armor advanced menacingly.

At the very last second, something colorful zoomed out of it. The armor fell on top of him. It was heavy and cold, pinning Albus.

Another bell sounded. He was late for class. He cursed Peeves a thousand times. It was the school poltergeist who had hidden inside the armor, he now realized.

He struggled for a few seconds, before giving up and going limp. Presently, he heard something.

"Peeeeeeeeeeeeeeves...PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVES..."

A spluttering and oily voice. "Oh, ah, your Baronship, sir, I mean, your-your Bloodiness, I mean...Mr. Baron."

"What is this ruckus, Peeeeeeeeeeves?"

"Erm, I, y'see, Mr. Bloodonship...oops...I, yes-"

"PEEEEEEEEEEVES!"

"Just a-a little joke, sir-my teensy weensy prank, you know..."

The other voice was rasping, slow, hoarse, croaky. "What have you DONE, here, Peeeeeeves?"

"Ah, me...it's, oh, you know, ol' Bloody, ol' pal...rrright. Just over there...my practical jokes-"

Next second, Albus felt the dismal sensation of plunging into icewater.

"Whooo is behind there, Peeeeeeves?

"Snotty, uh, Crackpot, um...What _is_ the brat's-sorry, _child's_-name, I wonder? Oh yes: P-potter, Ally Potter, methinks, sir!"

"Weeeeeellll? Get her _out!_"

The second sensation was extremely different from the first, though still not pleasant, exactly. He was suddenly filled with a kind of wicked mirth, and his body positively vibrated with bouncy energy. Then his very essence seemed to split into a thousand pieces, each of them with their own personal super-roller-coaster-tunnel to ride through. Then the pieces banged together again, and he stumbled, standing now in the corridor again.

He was covered in some sort of horrible green glowing slime. He supposed this must be the side effect of hitching a ride with a poltergeist (though he had an odd feeling Peeves was doing nothing whatsoever to prevent it or remedy it). The Bloody Baron was surveying Albus in an appraising fashion. Finally, he spoke again.

"It is a very ugly girl, if girl indeed it is," said the Baron matter-of-factly. "Seems rather masculine to me."

"I am n-_not_ a g-girl," Albus said shakily, yet indignantly.

The Baron looked slightly puzzled. "Peeves, what did you say its name was?"

"Er...Albus! Yes, that's right! Albus!"

Albus scowled. "If you don't mind, it's Al! Just Al."

"Well, I am sorry for your inconvenience, Albus," said the Bloody Baron. He glared at Peeves. "What have you got to say for yourself?" he hissed in a deadly tone.

Peeves gulped loudly. He tugged on his frilly ruff. "Ah...yes, of course. Um...apologize...most profusely, sir...G'bye!" he shouted finally and, with a nervous flip, rocketed out of sight.

"I shall essssssscort you to class," said the ghost impassively. "Tell them why you are late."

They walked (or in the Bloody Baron's case, glided) to the Charms classroom on the second floor. It was exceedingly awkward. Neither of them spoke. Albus was still covered in slime.

He was beginning to feel lightheaded. Every now and then, he found his eyelids drooping. He barely noticed that he was developing a fierce headache. Twice, he followed his ghost escort straight into a closed door. His skin was also getting a prickly, burning sensation on it, becoming more and more painful.

Suddenly, his entire body erupted in the same sort of mad, bouncy energy he had felt, only this time it was accompanied by pain. It was like he wasn't protected from the raw energy this time. Albus cried out, and then everything went black.

* * *

When he woke up, he was lying in a comfortable bed, with the blurry face of the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, above him.

She made a tutting noise. "That poltergeist! Second student this year! I swear he's getting bolder! Oh, heavens, you're awake!"

Albus's headache was worse now. Much, much worse. And his skin hurt too. He looked down at his arms. They were red and raw-looking.

"Er...what just happened?" he said groggily.

"What just happened?" repeated Madam Pomfrey. "You missed dinner, that's what just happened. But I daresay you were referring to what happened five hours ago?"

"_Five hours?_"

"Yes," she said in a weary manner. "It can have horrid effects on young people, that ectoplasm."

"Excuse me...Did you just say ectoplasma?"

"No, ecto_plasm_. It's what poltergeists are made of."

"But I thought they were incorporeal!"

"Has no one ever taught you this? Poltergeists are composed of fragments of pure spirit and energy, glued together by this ectoplasm substance."

"Oh..."

"You, my dear, were absolutely caked in the stuff. It's no wonder you fainted."

"So, this...ectoplastic-no, ectoplasm-stuff...is harmful?"

"It causes severe headache, disintegration of the skin, extreme loss of stamina, and sniffles."

"Ah. I see..."

Madam Pomfrey made another tutting noise. She swooped down upon a tall, narrow cup on his bedside table. It was filled with sloppy green liquid.

"Er..that's not more ectoplasm, is it?"

"Of course not!" she responded irritably. "It's the _remedy_. It'll make the headache worse, far worse, I'm afraid, so you'll need to stay here a couple of days. It will however, help to counteract the skin damage, to let it heal, and by nightfall your sniffles will be completely gone."

Albus sniffed. He took the bottle and drained the appalling medicine in two gulps that took great willpower. Madam Pomfrey surveyed him with her hands supporting her chin. "May I ask why you were _inside _darling Peeves?"

He choked. "How did you-?"

"There's positively no way you could have become so thoroughly drenched in that awful slime unless your being had bonded with his for a time."

Normally, Albus wouldn't have been exactly keen to relate the embarrassing tale of his being hoodwinked by a little floating man in a wretched bowtie, but he had an unusual relationship with Madam Pomfrey. Ever since the Quidditch match last year, when the Ravenclaw Seeker had wrecked into him up in the stands, he had been developing a steady-could it be called a friendship?-with her. He told her everything.

The school nurse pursed her lips. "Hmm...Well, I'm glad the Baron intervened, at any rate. Have you been having problems with Peeves this year before now?"

"No, not at all."

"Odd. Though, we can't be expected to question the spontaneity of a mad poltergeist, now can we?"

Albus chuckled. Then his face grew thoughtful. "Madam Pomfrey...never mind." He thought better of asking her advice. She was a teacher; he knew what her reply would be.

"You want to ask about your sibling."

He stared at her. "Uh..."

"That Rose...She's been worrying me for a while now."

Albus nearly choked again. "_Rose?_ But she-there's no-she's...not my sister. She's a cousin."

"Yes, that's right."

"Er, what's wrong with her?"

"She's been up here numerous times, and she's sent others here as well-I believe she's been dueling frequently. And by all reports, she hasn't been handing in her homework. That's not at all how I know her: she's usually an exemplary student."

Somehow, the school nurse seemed altogether more knowledgeable than she should be. Albus just added another trouble to his mental list.

* * *

Nor did the list get any shorter in the next week. He was let out of the infirmary two days later, only to be greeted by the torments of Slytherins.

"Oooooo, baby Potty's feeling better, then?" jeered Lyricke Zabini as he entered the Great Hall for dinner (yes, her first name actually was _Lyricke_).

"How many days did you spend crying over your booboo, eh?" sneered Tiberius Parkinson.

"Sure you don't need another week, Potter? Sure you've recovered from the mean old goo?" leered Scorpius Malfoy.

To Albus's immense disquiet, Rose Weasley suddenly pulled out her wand and had to be restrained by her brother Hugo, gnashing her teeth at Malfoy. Her leather bag spilled a few scraps of parchment and an inkwell.

Albus hastened forward to prevent the inkwell from running all over a small list. He was too late, unfortunately, and only one word remained untarnished after the spill. It wasn't even a word, really; all it said was, "_M.P.P._"

"What's that stand for?" he asked curiously.

"It's nothing," said Rose hurriedly, tucking it away.

"Hmm," mused Hugo enthusiastically, "Then I guess we'll just have to guess! Uh...Does the M stand for Malfoy?"

"No."

"Suuuuuuuuure it doesn't. Let's see...Malfoy...Pell...Poe...Par-Parkinson! Parkinson?"

Rose shook her head.

"Mary's Pen-Pal! My Pet Peeves! Moldy Pocket People! Many Pigs Perspire!"

"Okay, now you're just being ridiculous."

She walked away.

Hugo looked at Albus in surprise. "She really isn't going to tell us, is she?"

Albus shrugged. "Guess not."

Malfoy looked shaken from Rose's uncharacteristic show of aggression, but composed himself swiftly.

"Need another Weasley girl to back you up, Potter? I think there's a first-year who's got it in for you."

Tiberius laughed cruelly. "Don't hurt his wittle feelings, Scorpius! He's depressed, I think. After all, how could he not be, with a name like _Albus_?"

"Shut up, _Tiberius_," said Hugo. "What kind of a name is _that_, anyway? Your mother didn't like you much, did she?-And who can blame her?"

"_I_ think they're both prat-names," said a new voice.

Albus, Hugo, Malfoy, and Parkinson whirled around, snarling.

It was Earl Smith. "What?" he said. "Going to hex me?" he asked in an I'd-like-to-see-you-try-it sort of tone.

"Yup." Hugo pulled out his wand. "Which would you prefer-Jelly-Legs, or Tooth-Taffy?"

"Now, now, what's going on here?"

Neville was striding toward them. "Put that wand away, Hugo!"

Hugo, looking sullen, pocketed his wand and sat down across from Rose. "C'mon, Al."

Neville bent forward. "How's Lily?" he murmured. "She seems really put out. Is it about her new House?"

Albus shrugged, wishing everybody would stop making such a fuss over Lily being in Hufflepuff.

"And, a little tip-next time you're covered in eerie glowing slime put on you by a conniving specter, be sure and get it off."

* * *

"No, James."

"Aw, come on, Al! It'll be fun!"

"I've told you three million times, _no._ Sneaking into the forest for a laugh is suicide."

"Heeheeheeheeheehee!"

"Oh no. Not Peeves again."

Albus and James were in the dungeons, having just completed their final lesson of the next day. James had struck up the argument afresh, hoping to catch his brother unawares. Presently, they were interrupted by Peeves the Poltergeist materializing out of a torch bracket, snuffing the flames out. He was holding an umbrella. He opened it above their heads and out spilled a dozen owl droppings.

"Ack!" yelled Albus furiously. "Oh, come _on!_"

"Peeves," said James in a commanding voice, "Stop!"

Peeves dropped the umbrella and sprang into a salute.

Albus gaped in astonishment back and forth between the two of them. "Buh, you...how-?"

"Peeves used to respect Uncle George like this, too. I reckon he listens to me almost as much as the Bloody Baron. He's practically my pet."

"_How?_"

"Well, I'm a Marauder, en't I?"

Albus snorted. James had been calling himself a 'Marauder' ever since their father had given him the legendary Marauders' Map. Albus had inherited an Invisibility Cloak, and Lily a Golden Snitch.

Peeves was still suspended in the air, perfectly stationary and quiet-something Albus had never seen before.

"Peeves sort of admires my troublemaking skill. _He_ thinks we should see the Forbidden Forest."

"He's a POLTERGEIST!"

"So?"

"_So_, he'd love to see us get into trouble."

"Trust me, he's pretty benign with me."

"Not with me. Or anyone else on this planet."

"Whatever. Peeves, why don't you stay and talk to Albus. I gotta run!"

"Wait! Peeves and I, we, er, aren't on very good terms."

James made a dismissive face. "Pshaw!"

Then he was gone.

Peeves swooped over to Albus, rapping him on the head with the pink umbrella for good measure. "Listen, kid," he said, trying to sound like a mentor (somehow he wasn't pulling it off), "Ya got any teachers you don't like?"

Albus didn't answer.

"Well, just imagine the pranks you could pull on 'em with the stuff you get from the Forbidden Forest. Plus you get the satisfaction of just deceiving them. Come on, why don't you give it a try? Just for laughs!"

"I'm not going into this argument with you, too."

Peeves was indignant. "And why not? I can steer people straight if I want to! What, you don't think I'm worth listening to? Well, I for one think it's a brilliant idea."

"You're not very persuasive, are you, Peeves?"

"Nope!" he cackled happily.

Albus frowned. He had just noticed something-something oddly familiar.

"Peeves," he said slowly, "Where did you get that umbrella?"

* * *

"THA' RUDDY POLTERGEIST!" Hagrid bellowed. "So _that's_ where me wand wen'!"

"You knew your wand was missing, and you still didn't go asking around?" said Mugley, the school Caretaker.

"No!" Hagrid growled defensively. "I didn' _know._ I though' it was somewhere 'round the 'ouse. I was lookin' fer it."

"Don't worry, Hagrid," assured Mugley, flashing a brilliant smile, "I'll get it back in a sec."

Taylor Mugley, as Caretaker, couldn't be more different from his predecessor Argus Filch. Mr. Filch had died mysteriously at an old age (it was rumored that his carcass was still rotting in a secret passage behind a mirror-nobody used _that _passage anymore). Professor McGonagall hired Mugley over the summer after Filch's disappearance. He was friendly, with perfect teeth and blond hair. At an age of about twenty, most of the older female students had a crush on him, despite his rather unsavory surname. For reasons not entirely clear, he had been hired in spite of his youth and inexperience. Allegedly, he knew practically all there was to know about Hogwarts from his days as a student himself there; yes, he had attended Hogwarts as a boy, by contrast to the former Caretaker, who was a Squib.

Presently, he left Hagrid's hut, leaving Hagrid and Albus to their tea.

"You know," said Hagrid with a nostalgic, dreamy look on his face, "I remember a time when I wasn't even allowed ter use tha' wand. Tha' was before we 'ad Kingsley Shacklebolt as Minister, yeh see. Expelled fer a crime I didn' even commit, an' me wand snapped in two. I kept the pieces, o' course, an'..." Hagrid was looking slightly sheepish now. He gave Albus a sly smile from behind his bushy beard. "Well, poin' is, they let me off righ' away, now Shacklebolt's in office."

"Suppose we ought to head up to the feast about now. Wouldn't want to miss it, would we?" Albus drained his cup. When glancing down into it, he saw a most peculiar shape in the tea leaves and did a double take. No, no, it _couldn't_ be. It must have just been a fluke. He'd heard about tea-leaf signs from Cedric, who took Divination, and...

"Yea. An' we ker see wha' Mr. Mugley does ter Peeves, too, o' course, if yer like."

They both grinned.

* * *

"Aw, come on, now, Peeves, give it back to him."

"WON'T!"

"Peeves. Am I gonna have to call the Bloody Baron again?"

Peeves blew a huge raspberry at Mugley, who sighed.

Hagrid chuckled. "It's the only job 'e ever 'as trouble wiff," he said in an undertone to Albus. "Just don' intimidate him 's much's ol' Filch used to."

Albus snorted. From what he'd heard, Filch had never been able to intimidate Peeves in the slightest. Far from it-the old Caretaker used to be Peeves's favorite target, so his father told him.

"I'm sorry, Peeves, but you leave me with no other option. _Espectre Respecte!_" He directed his wand at Peeves, who let out a curse before exploding into a slime-bomb of ectoplasm. The umbrella and Peeves's walking stick and hat all fell to the flagstone floor with a clatter.

The three of them siphoned away the ectoplasm with their wands (Hagrid having retrieved his) and parted ways: Mugley went back to his office and Hagrid and Albus went to the Great Hall. Albus looked back at the hat and cane before the door closed, thinking to himself, _It might actually be nice to be admired like James, like a daredevil. And it would certainly be nice to have that kind of influence over the school poltergeist; it would have been a cinch for _James_ to get that wand back._


	5. The First

Hellooooooooooo, everyone! Sorry about the hiatus but it took me a long time to write this, what with everything else I have to do. I feel your pain, KtDS. Here's chapter 5 for those of you who actually follow this fic (if you want to prove to me that more than two people even glance at this besides me, leave a friggin' REVIEW!)

Disclaimer: **Ug.**

Chapter Five: The First

It was the first of November, but it felt like the first of January.

The temperature had dropped overnight. The rain was over, but the cold front had just begun; it didn't seem like this would be a very agreeable year in terms of climate. When everyone had risen that day, it had been to a layer of frost on each and every blade of grass on the sloping grounds. The sky was cloudless and the sun bright, but it was still below freezing. At four o'clock in the morning, Hagrid could be seen trudging across the lawn to the paddock by the Whomping Willow to tend to the cold animals.

It just so happened that someone _did _see Hagrid that morning, because it just so happened that Albus Potter was up at four a.m. He was worrying, as usual. And about all the same things: James, Rose, and Lily. Why did everyone have to choose _now _to go bonkers?

He looked over towards his friend Cedric. He'd forgotten to close the curtains and was hanging halfway out of his bed. The dormitory was dark; the most light came from the window Albus had opened behind his bed. What would Cedric do? He thought he knew. Cedric would probably go straight to Neville; it was one of the traits that had always annoyed him about his friend - he'd sooner snitch on a friend than try to talk them out of it.

Snitch…that reminded him. The Quidditch season was approaching. His brother James was Beater this year. He'd been Chaser last year, like his grandfather, but hadn't made it this year and so had decided to try out a second time - this time for Beater. He certainly had the build for it, and he had loved the muggle game called Cricket when he was younger, so he had the practice too. If their mother'd had her way, they wouldn't have been exposed to Muggle sports, but their father insisted. The first match was Gryffindor against Hufflepuff, and it was much-anticipated. Alyssa Thomas had drawn a Gryffindor banner and was employing Cedric's help to try and make it move and roar on its own. Albus had recently received an invitation from Professor Strout to join her new "Healing Club," co-founded by Madam Pomfrey in light of the coming game. Horrified, Albus had pretended not to receive it.

He wondered how Lily would react. After all, she was technically in Hufflepuff house. Maybe he would talk to her about the match. They hadn't had a friendly conversation in a while. Yet again, he remembered Nearly Headless Nick's dire warnings not to let his sister distance herself.

Suppressing a sigh, Albus got up and pulled on his school robe. Time to get down to breakfast; sitting and thinking could famish a person.

* * *

When he walked into the Great Hall, he found that the fireplace had actually been expanded. Whereas yesterday it had spanned only a five-foot fraction of one wall, it was now four times as long, with a huge fire crackling merrily from end to end.

_It must really be cold_, Albus thought. The only time he'd ever seen anything like that was when his father had taken him and Lily to the Ministry and they saw the rows upon rows of fireplaces for Floo arrival.

Even as he thought it, Neville came in through the door behind the staff table wearing a furred blue winter cloak and said "It really is cold! Oh, hi, Al. Anything to report?"

"Nah, not really," Albus lied.

"Well, what brings you up so early? You're usually a late riser."

"Couldn't sleep." This time he was being perfectly truthful.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Sorry I can't stay and chat, but I really must dash - got to see Professor McGonagall about something." And with that, he strode down the Hall and disappeared into the foyer.

Albus sat down absentmindedly, waiting for the food to come. Suddenly he heard a clatter behind him. Two tables away a plate, saucer, and glass had just appeared: pancakes with bacon and an omelet. His favorite.

_Must be Winky,_ he thought. Winky was a house-elf down in the kitchens. She was a friend of Kreacher's, who was a friend of the family. Albus had been friends with her since his second term at Hogwarts. He'd been in the bathroom at midnight, and when he came back the Fat Lady was gone. He could hear Peeves, who would surely turn him in for being out after hours, rocketing around a corner when a house-elf had suddenly pulled hm into a secret passage.

Feeling foolish, Albus suddenly realized that he was sitting at the Slytherin table. He hastened over to the Gryffindor table before anyone else saw him and ate with relish. It wasn't until he'd scarfed down the whole lot of it that he wondered: How had Winky known he was up?

This was such a bothersome question that he resolved to go make a visit to the kitchens and ask her about it. He had time to spare, being up so early.

Five minutes later, he was in a long hallway lined with fluorescent paintings and lit with a strange bronze light the source of which he couldn't place. It was warmer than most of the castle right now, and it absolutely screamed Hufflepuff. He knew the entrance to their common room was around her somewhere.

But that wasn't what he was after. Once he'd located the oil painting of a bowl of fruit, he hesitated. Which one was he supposed to tickle? The banana? No, no, that wasn't it. So what was it?

After a moment's deliberation, he tried the grapes. To his astonishment, they formed a frowning face and reached right out of the portrait to slap him.

Albus blinked. He'd just been slapped by a blotch of purple and brown paint that had been two-dimensional not five seconds ago. Now _that _was weird, even for magic.

"It's the pear," said a voice close at hand. Albus wrenched around to see a stocky sixth-year boy grinning at him.

The boy held out a hand. "Stanley," he said amiably.

"Al," Albus replied, a little less kindly, a little more warily.

They shook hands. Albus received another shock when he saw Lily come up behind Stanley. She was actually smiling.

"Come on, Stan, let's go!"

"Just a minute, Lil - " He stopped, looking back and forth between Albus and Lily. "Whoa… Hey, wait a minute! Al is short for Albus, isn't it?"

Albus didn't deny it.

"So you guys are brother and sister, huh?"

"Yep." Lily was no longer smiling.

"Oh, shoot! I left my bag. Wait here, will you, Lily?"

Stan walked over to a painting of a plate of steaming grilled salmon with a meaty hand holding a fork beside it. "Contrapositive!" he said in a commanding tone.

As if it were perforated, the canvas suddenly folded upward in a hundred little zigzags, leaving and empty frame facing a blank stretch of wall. Without missing a beat, Stanley plunged through the hard stone as though it were dust hanging on the air. A second later, the painting came back down looking perfectly normal.

"What kind of a password is 'Contrapositive?'" said Albus.

Lily gasped. "Oh, gosh, you heard that! You won't tell anyone, will you?"

Albus grinned and ruffled her hair. "Of course not."

* * *

The house-elves were ecstatic at his arrival. After declining numerous offers of roast ox, tea and cakes, and even caviar, Albus spotted Winky.

"Hiya!" he shouted to her.

Squeaking with delight, the tiny elf ran over to him. It was hard to imagine her drunk and miserable, as she had been before he was born. According to his father, Winky had been pulled out of the gutter when she met Kreacher. He'd taken a liking to her and took her on as a kind of apprentice. This was the best thing that had ever happened to Winky.

Speaking of which…where _was _Kreacher? The old house-elf was usually sitting by himself near the fire, but he wasn't there today.

"Where's Kreacher?"

The house-elves shuffled uncomfortably at this and muttered. Hastening to change the subject, Winky piped up, "You is hungry, right, Master?"

"No," said Albus, "And call me Al. I'm not your master."

"But sir, all Hogwartians is our masters!"

"Alright, fine, then. I'm ordering you to call me Al."

"Oh! yes, m - Al."

"Kreacher's not ill, is he?"

"Kreacher is fine," said Winky nervously. "Let us have tea now, Master Al!"

An elf named Bippo hustled off to get the drinks without waiting for an answer from Albus. He was about to ask again about Kreacher but all the house-elves eagerly followed Bippo, creating a stampede of waist-high house elves with flapping ears. In the midst of the commotion, Albus saw a leaning old creature hobbling on a mini-cane sidle discreetly into the room.

It was Kreacher.

Kreacher was old when Albus's father was his age; now, he was positively ancient. He'd been working at Hogwarts since Harry was seventeen.

Walking quietly towards him, Albus said "Hello, Kreacher."

"Ehh," came the elf's reply.

"How've you been today?"

"Kreacher is well," Kreacher said in his bullfrog voice. "And how about Albus? Still fretting over Master James?"

Albus narrowed his eyes. "How did you know about that?"

Kreacher's eyes widened. He set his cane against the mantle and sat down, pretending not to have heard him.

Bippo came back with the tea just then. When the elves saw that Albus had noticed Kreacher, their faces fell and their ears pulled down. They all averted their eyes; Bippo held up the tea tray halfheartedly. Albus ignored it.

"What is going on here?"

None of them answered him.

"Winky, _what is going on here?_"

Winky shuffled her feet. "We is bringing your tea, Mr. Al, sir."

Albus knelt down to face her, tingling with apprehension. Her eyes were brimming with water.

"How did you know that I was in the Great Hall this morning, Winky?"

Silence.

"Tell me, Winky - that's an order!" Albus hated to be so hostile, but this was exceedingly suspicious behavior for a house-elf.

The poor little elf burst into tears. "Winky cannot!" she wailed. "Winky cannot tell!"

"Calm down, Winky, calm down!" Albus said, alarmed. "Why can't you tell me?"

Winky's lip quivered as her sobbing subsided. Then she shouted "Kreacher is ordered to spy on you, Albus Potter!" Wide-eyed at her own daring, Winky flew to a crooked stack of brass pots and began banging her head on one of them, punishing herself.

Albus wrenched her away from the pot. She bowed gratefully to him.

"Who told you to spy on me?" Albus demanded of Kreacher.

Kreacher remained tight-lipped. Albus hadn't really expected anything more. What kind of nimrod would have forgotten to order the house-elves not to give his name? It was what Albus would do.

* * *

Albus spent the rest of that day constantly looking over his shoulder for a peeping house-elf. He didn't want to be spied on at all, but especially not for what he was about to do….

* * *

"Psst! James!"

"Huh? What?"

"I'll do it."

"Do what?"

"The forest!"

"_Excellent!_"

"Shh - quiet down."

"Right."

"When?"

"When what?"

"When do you want to…_do _it?"

"How about tonight? Eleven. You might want to bring the Invisibility Cloak."

Albus walked away from James, and James from Albus, and only one other person ever noticed what they had said to each other.

* * *

The Entrance Hall was dark, lit only by faint torchlight. At the bottom of the marble staircase, James and Albus removed the cloak.

"Let's go," Albus said determinedly.

"Okay!" said James with enthusiasm.

They walked out onto the front steps. As soon as the outside air hit them, they felt refreshed. The cold seemed to have vanished and the night was much warmer than the day. The ground was soaked from the melted frost. It was actually quite pleasant, to be honest.

They walked down the sloping path to the trees. When they neared Hagrid's hut they began to tiptoe. The lights were off and there was no smoke coming out of the chimney.

Having reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they appraised it. It seemed quite dark and scary to Albus.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" said James. "Let's go!"

They plunged into the trees.

* * *

It was not exciting. After ten minutes of following the dirt trail, they had seen nothing but a rabbit scurrying across their path.

"Can we go back now?" whined Albus, fighting his way through the tangled undergrowth. "I'm sick of thorns cutting my legs and tearing my robes!"

"Just wait a few more minutes," said James. "There's an unexpected warm front after a period of cold. That'll attract - "

Suddenly a light appeared in the trees. It was a bright yellow light, like a large firefly. It fluttered towards them, mesmerizing James and terrorizing Albus.

"Run!" he cried. "It's an acromantula, it's a hinkypunk! It's a - "

"It's a fairy," said James softly.

He was right. All around them now, more lights were flickering. They drew near the two boys and danced around them. One of them fluttered close to Albus and landed on his nose; it tickled. She giggled in his ear and took flight again just before he sneezed.

The airy creatures were circling around them harmoniously, leaving trails of glittering colored sparks in their wake. Albus had never seen anything like it. Not even the school's Christmas trees were this enchanting. Albus and James found themselves revolving slowly in time with the fairies.

The show lasted for about fifteen minutes. At the end, half of the fairies flew away while the other half flew down the path the way the boys had come and pulsated with an especially bright light…

…and then they were gone.

Albus and James, dumbstruck and delighted, looked at each other dreamily. It was the first time either of them had ever been in the forest, and it would certainly not be the last.


End file.
